Girl Code
by Spirit of Fox
Summary: Harry wasn't too amused when an overzealous fan changed him into a girl. He is determined to change back and his best bet is to find the demon who made the deal with the idiot. Sam and Dean are just along for the ride with the new she-male. Slash/Het
1. Prologue

Girl Code

Author: S.O.F.

Rating: T (may go up later)

Pairings: Sam/Harry and/or Dean/Harry (haven't decided, so don't try to influence me :P )

Disclaimer: I don't own neither Supernatural, neither Harry Potter. But if I add any OCs then they are mine.

Warnings: slash, het, AU for HP after GoF, Harry's potty mouth and the fact that I don't want to take this much too seriously at all, so my weird and not-too-funny humor, this chapter not being beta-ed (other things might be added later)

Notes: at the end

* * *

Prologue

On a usual day Harry James Potter woke up, brushed his teeth, went to shower, dressed, drank coffee, ate something, went back to brush his teeth again, grabbed another cup of coffee on his way down and went to do what he wanted to do. His morning routine was not disturbed as his friends learned after spending seven years with him in a dormitory that a disturbed Harry Potter was a bit vindictive and downright scary after waking up and not having his favorite drink before he uttered even one word. He was like a zombie before he downed two cups of the black liquid, but he denied any comments about him being an addict to caffeine. He could stop anytime, but he didn't want to. And would you leave him alone, pretty please, he was supposed to defeat Lord Voldemort so he could have coffee anytime he wanted or did they want to do the job by themselves? Yeah, he thought so.

He wasn't a coffee addict. Really.

And his friends will go to hell, if they tried their little stunt with bribing Dobby to not make any coffee, he wasn't adverse to the idea of slowly roasting them alive and giving them to Norbert as a peace offering for taking and egg from under her during fourth year in the Triwizard Tournament.

After explaining this idea to his frightened and bound audience, they agreed to not pull off something like that again. After removing their gags and spending a few days in the tender care of Madame Pomfrey (or in the case of Ron Weasley, who spent several months with a psychiatrist trying to lessen his resurfaced fear of spiders) the perpetrators agreed to one little rule concerning Harry Potter waking habits, to not get into a situation like the previous one.

Don't come between Harry James Potter and his coffee. Especially his first cup. If you do, you won't even be able to found using werewolves as hunters to track your body parts. After his second cup, you might get a bit unrecognizable even by your mother, but you were the idiot who didn't honor the holy union between the Golden Boy and the Black Gold of Caffeine.

So don't do that, if you would like to live a happy, unscarred life filled with happiness and like to have your ability to procreate.

Things went a little out of control on a fine Monday after Voldemort's defeat; when our hero discovered something very big change before his first coffee in his room, next to the room from where the snoring of Sirius Black could be heard, his godfather, who wouldn't shut up even after being almost smothered by a pillow. And being kicked out of his bed and hit a few times for good measure, but the man remained blissfully unaware and continues to snore rather loudly.

And this was the sound that reached the young hero's ears and made him a bit homicidal after banging a few times on the wall to stop the noise, then getting over to his room and trying to wake him up with no results.

He then proceeded to go back to his room and fall over his foot cursing loud the whole time and banging into objects which he didn't know were in his room at all.

He flopped on his back and stared at the ceiling trying to find out what was his previous destination, before he ended up on his back. Sadly his head felt full of cotton candy and the gears of his mind simply didn't want to work at all. He sat up and almost thrown up on the floor but he held himself back because it would have been very degrading and undignified to sit in his own vomit while trying to reboot his brain that seemed to go on a vacation and forget to leave a note to him about his departure.

Then a new feeling took over him and he got up without any care to his heaving stomach and started his trek to the bathroom as his bladder hurt from not going to pee for these long hours and his head felt like a giant hippogriff herd went through over him the previous night. Only not.

Instead he consumed more than enough alcohol to last more than a lifetime and the aftereffects made him realize that he probably was a lightweight in drinking. But could you blame our poor hero? He was having a party with his friends who remained strangely alive through the last year of the war to celebrate his defeat of You-Know-Who.

"No. I don't know who. Why don't you simply call him on his name? Voldemort. It's easy, only nine letters, yet everyone seems to be inclined to use those ridiculous titles. Dark Lord my ass. He was an idiot with full of idiotic ideals of a racist who didn't want to think through his brilliancy, because he believed in his genius mindset. Fucking idiot of a fucker who should have dropped dead after seeing himself in a fucking mirror, for fuck's sake! Oh sake… I shouldn't have drunk so much…"

Harry also liked to indulge in mumbling to himself when there wasn't anybody looking or when there was somebody looking. Usually he didn't even realize that he was talking out loud, at other times he told others his opinion about things in a rather blunt manner and he tried to break himself of the habit, but he didn't have too much of a success because most of the time he wasn't aware that he was doing it again.

Harry James Potter wasn't a happy camper at the time and his usual morning cheerfulness was replaced with giant black clouds hanging over his head and rhythmical drums beating right next to his ears. No, he wasn't feeling happy at all and he suddenly wished that the idiot who invented alcohol was six-feet under, so he could dance on his grave after his headache stopped.

Wait a second.

"They were always drunk people, so I guess that idiot is already dead. But who the hell was he? Note to self: ask Hermione later when head doesn't hurt anymore."

Arriving to the bathroom he tripped over the threshold and had to hold on to the basin as he righted himself still half-asleep. He went to the toilet and with his pants down he tried to get a hold of his dick only to grab thin air.

With tremendous power he pried one of his eyes open and looked down only to have both of his eyes snap open and stare at his manhood. Which wasn't there. He stared harder at the place where it was supposed to be and started to become a bit confused by its absence.

He tried to articulate, but his throat was a bit sketchy, so he only managed a bewildered 'whrewhre' sound. His next attempt made a bit more sense.

"What the hell?" and he rubbed his eyes in case he was only hallucinating and this was just a very weird dream. He pinched himself and swear as the little pain made his head throb again. He forget about his 'little' problem while he tried to locate the right potion for hangovers, with his pants still pooled around his feet.

He managed to down a phial and he rubbed his temple, struggling to just will his headache away or to make the potion react faster.

Few minutes later he could think without having to try really hard and his symptoms lessened to a bearable level. He slumped against the basin and looked at his reflection, instead of looking down at his hips in terror. He studied the face in front of him and wondered.

"Do my eyelashes look longer? Were my cheekbones this delicate looking?" he asked from no one and leant a bit more to see more clearly as his eyes were still a bit foggy with sleep. And then something pressed into his chest and he felt pain, making him curse again then take a step back as his hand came up to touch the place that hurt.

Harry paled as he felt something soft and squishy under his hand and looked down in horror, which was only reserved to times when Tom acted especially idiotic or when Ginny tried to seduce him or when the mediwizard tried to tell him that no he wasn't blind it's just a bandage on his eyes and before he reminded him that he accepted to have his sight repaired. But this time the objects of his look of horror were the two mounds on his chest revealed by him ripping his shirt in his haste to see with his own eyes. He let out a strangled sound then promptly did something he later vehemently denied.

He fainted.

On his way down he banged his head into the tub so he had a few minutes out cold, but his fall made quite a loud sound and a few occupants of the house were woken up. Including one Hermione Jane Granger, extraordinary witch who broke every record in Hogwarts' History when all of her NEWT's were Outstanding and was considered as the braniac of the school. She heard a thud, then another, then the breaking of a glass from the next room, so she jumped out of her bed, swayed on her feet a bit, then grabbed a Hangover Potion (which wasn't as needed, as she wasn't too drunk the previous night) and drank it as she stepped into Harry's room. She put the vial down on the bedside table and saw the light from the slightly open bathroom door.

She went closer and tentatively called out.

"Harry? Are you in there?"

There wasn't any answer so she braced herself and opened the door wider, but it was stuck and wouldn't open totally. She stuck in her head and looked around the down, to see what cause the resistance. She shrieked when she saw her fallen best friend and pushed the door more to let her in.

She squeezed herself inside and immediately went down to her knees to check on his vitals. He had a steady heartbeat and she touched the bump on his head, feeling its size and wincing in pity for him. She grabbed him on his shoulders and tried to haul him over, but she was wedged in the confined place.

She attempted to turn him over again, so she out her arms under his arms, but quickly let go when she felt something soft under her hands. She turned red as she tentatively reached out and touched his chest again and felt the same thing again. She withdrawn her hands when she realized that he had woman breasts and she felt him up when she touched him a few seconds ago.

"Harry? Harry? Wake up Harry!"

She shook him and stared at his back with teary eyes. She collected all of her Gryffindor bravery and turned him over. Getting a look of his body she shrieked which woke up those lucky one who were not awake and the ones who was were drawn to the shrill voice unlike anything they've ever heard.

Sirius was the first one to break down Harry's bedroom's door and he instantly made his way to the bathroom door. He stuck in his head like Hermione did and stared at her hovering over Harry's scandalously dressed front.

"What's happening Hermione? Don't tell me you decided to rape my godson at this early hour?" he asked taking in Harry's clothes and Hermione's red face as she covered every exposed part of Harry's new anatomy.

"Sirius! It's not the time for your jokes! There's something wrong with Harry!" she turned around and exclaimed in a hysteric way and he was stuck with the view of Harry's body. He struggled to breath as he took in the new development and spun on his heel to hide his blush.

What exactly a former-fugitive could do when his godson wasn't his godson anymore, but his goddaughter?

He didn't dwell on it, instead went to the bed and pulled off the sheet, then marched back to the door and with his head turned away he threw in the cloth.

"Cover him. Er… Her. And I will open the door. Try to move him… her."

Hermione nodded as she spread the white cloth over him and Sirius pulled all of his weight to open the door. Hermione bent their legs and cuddled Harry into her form to make his job more easier. Upon opening the door, he stepped in and took the white-clad figure into his arms and Hermione stood up from her spot. Sirius looked into her eyes then sighed.

"What will happen now?" she asked from him and he was suddenly struck with how young she was.

"Now, you're waking up everyone in the house and tell the adults to gather inside the dining room. You call Dumbledore and tell him to bring Snape."

"And you?" she asked already rehearsing what she would say to the headmaster.

"I will stay with her. This might not even be Harry, so we have to be careful. Tell Albus that it's very important."

Hermione nodded then jogged off to alert everyone. Sirius stood up and walked to the door then gently closed it with a spell. He looked over his shoulder and saw the girl on the bed. He sighed again and dragged a chair next to it, feeling too old.

He slumped and rubbed his eyes feeling a headache build behind them and settled in to wait for the others.

"Why is it always you, squirt?" he snorted after a few minutes.

Harry James Potter was having a ridiculous dream about waking up one day and finding out that he was a girl. 'What an idiotic thing to dream about.' He thought before he jerked awake, hit by a Rennervate.

"I'll tell you this only once, you idiot mutt. It's Potter. And I don't know what the idiot did, to turn himself into that, so I don't know how to reverse it."

Harry stared at them uncomprehending the situation and tried to figure out why were they arguing over his head, and why was he only clothed in an airy sheet. He shifted and sat up, making the sheet fall of his chest, and there was a choking sound as Sirius dived in to knock Snape off his feet. Hermione jumped into his sight and grabbed the sheet to pull over his chest and he stared down at her hands when she touched something which shouldn't be that big on him. He jumped when he saw his breasts and his hand went to touch himself to assure that he still had his family jewels. Instead of them he found a mound and his eyes went wide when his fingers touched wet folds. Realizing this he yanked out his hand from under the sheet and stared into Hermione's brown eyes for guidance. She shook her head and the wrestling of Sirius and Snape was broken up by a blushing Remus. In the background Dumbledore continued to munch on a lemon drop with much gusto.

"What happened with me?"

The question made things go silent at once. The wrestlers stopped and stood up, Remus took a step back from them in case a fight broke out again. Snape dusted himself off and stared at Harry in mild disdain.

"It seems like you managed to turn yourself into a woman Potter. Would you please tell us how you managed to do this?" growled out the Potions Professor with a scathing look in Sirius's direction.

Harry stared at him and his anger quickly replaced his confusion.

"Do you think, that if I did this with myself I would be so surprised about this, Professor?" he asked with menace and glared at him.

"It's apparent that you've no control over your magic Potter, so it's only natural that the first to be blamed is you for this development." Came the snappish answer from Snape and Harry looked down ashamed of his weakness being brought up again. "And then there is the fact that no traces of poison were found in your fluids."

Harry looked down into his lap when a word caught his attention. "Wait a sec! What do you mean by fluids?"

Snape sneered at him with clear distaste then looked at the Headmaster with a questioning look. The old man stood up from his place on the comfy couch and stared at his new friend a bit forlornly before taking his position in the matter.

"I believe that Harry didn't change his own gender, even magic has its limitations without the necessary control from its user. However we need to figure out how was this done before it gets leaked out to the wrong people… Voldemort might be dead, but he is not the only one who could gain something of this… change." He summed up properly the situation which left the room occupants stare ahead somberly.

"I get the whole depressing and general gloomy feeling, but you still didn't answer my question! What fluids were you talking about?"

In different small towns on the other side of the Great Pond two brothers were adding the finishing touch to their own hunts (for a poltergeist and for the last bag of chips) without knowing about the plight of one pissed off Harry James Potter.

* * *

AN: So anyone up for the challenge of betaing this monstrosity for me? I would be very, very happy if someone would help me out a bit to make the words and sentences flow easier as my first language isn't English and this is my first longer fanfic. About the disclaimer: I just sort of started writing this after watching SPN Season 2. I'm an avid slash fan, so most of the time I cringe when I see genderbend stories, but as I said in the beginning I don't believe that this will be too serious. Maybe once or twice it will, but don't expect too much of me.

Reviews are always welcomed. :)


	2. Chapter 1: Oops

Disclaimer: Don't own SPN, neither HP. If I did, I wouldn't be so piss poor. *sob*

Pairings: Sam/Harry and (?) Dean/Harry

Warnings: HP is AU from GoF, genderbend, slightly crack!fic, my bad humor, slash, het, femslash

Beta: FEARMEfrancis

* * *

**Chapter 1: "Oops."**

"No girl shall purchase a distinctive item of clothing which she is aware her friend owns without express permission from the friend." /Girl Code Rule 11/

* * *

It was a nice day.

The rain was pounding on the glass, the winds were picking apart the rooftop of the next house and the sky was black with clouds covering the sun.

Grimmauld Place was located between two houses (number 11 and number 13), hidden under Fidelius, so the muggle neighbors and magical onlookers didn't even know about its' existence. Only a selected few could enter and they have to be admitted by the holder of the secrecy charm.

The key to it was a person named Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, lemon drop lover and a man who holds many more titles and the man who was told to be older than mankind. Yes, Dumbledore's acquaintances were convinced that the man should be long dead and that something wasn't natural about his magical prowess.

Whether Dumbledore knew about the rumors about him or not, Harry thought that the old man might have got fed up with the double standards of the Wizarding World and he tried to escape from their clutches by retreating into his mind. Or his strange habits and quirks were just an attempt to make his enemies underestimate him while he plotted against the followers of the dark.

Harry wasn't even sure about the old man's senility most of the time, but he had his brilliant moments once in a while when he didn't have to manage a school full of nasty and hyperactive children, and the expectations of saving the world wasn't on his shoulder anymore.

When he was fifteen and he had just learnt the prophecy involving him and Voldemort, he was angry and demanded that he was left alone, because even if the man killed his parents, he wasn't ready to face someone who was seventy years ahead in spellwork, only to save a bunch of misguided wizards and witches whose alliances were swiftly manipulated by the Ministry. He asked Dumbledore to step in his place and deal with the Dark Lord, but the old man looked at him with his troubled blue eyes and told him that he can't stand in the way of Destiny. Harry broke down and begged to the man to see from his point of view, that if Voldemort didn't know the full prophecy then it might be okay to destroy it or leave it unfulfilled. And Dumbledore just stood there and let him throw a temper tantrum, looking at him with a calm face the entire time. At that moment, he hated the old man.

In those few days he wanted to run away, to leave everything behind, to forget that magic ever existed but he was in knee-deep in the mess and he had to think about his friends and family, and in the end he just couldn't do it. He wouldn't be able to sleep without nightmares if he did that and his friends thought he was going crazy being strung like a bow everyday and getting closer and closer to snapping. And they were close to the truth.

After finding out about the prophecy he spent the next three years training to defeat Voldemort. He now understood that Dumbledore couldn't get him out of his place as the Savior, and he forgave the man who was a savior too, when he had to defeat Dark Lord Grindelwald. So he learnt obscure magic, he studied martial arts, and he left Hogwarts to reach his goal. His reason for living became the defeat of Voldemort. He spent days and nights pouring through magical texts to find some way to end the reptilian man, and one day he decided that it was enough.

Voldemort controlled his life and he wasn't the perfect weapon, and never could be. He didn't like killing, but he did what he had to do in order to get rid of Voldemort once and for all.

It was strange that the idea came to him when he went out to have a night stroll on the school ground. His scheme got stuck in his head and it poked him until he left the library in hurry earning a few questioning looks from the few he passed on his run. He didn't look around and he didn't care anymore.

He apparated to Muggle London, put a glamour on, and went to buy his first gun. He used that gun only once, and then destroyed it.

Voldemort never thought that the Boy Who Lived would stoop so low to use Muggle machinery. And this was the reason why he couldn't do anything when said boy appeared behind him during a skirmish and put a bullet in his brain, molding his chest against the cold back of the Dark Lord and hiding his face from the view. There wasn't anybody who saw his expression when he killed him, but a few spectators woke up years later in the restricted ward of Saint Mungo to a man that screamed and screamed, yelling at the world to stop and to not look into his cold eyes , before hanging himself.

Lord Voldemort was no more and Harry James Potter stood behind him with clean robes and vaguely smelling of gunpowder and smoke.

He didn't smile, he didn't feel relieved, and his shoulder hurt from the recoil. He was surprised a bit that the whole thing worked and thought about having to destroy the gun and he just turned around and walked away, leaving behind shocked Death Eaters before the Aurors arrived and started to arrest the gob smacked terrorists. A few tried to resist but they were reeling from the shock of having their Master die in front of their eyes, sending pain through their Mark and leaving them feeling hollow.

Bystanders claimed that they have seen Harry Potter running around with a gleeful smirk on his face, but he didn't care about having another rumor added to his fame, so he didn't do anything to dissuade them. Only a few muggles saw him ordering a big cup of coffee in a small coffee shop, and they weren't privy about his identity.

Nevertheless, the whole scenario of him killing the Dark Lord cemented the public belief that he shouldn't be trifled with and made his fame skyrocket. Harry Potter just didn't care and he was fine with it.

He started to feel relieved when they celebrated his success within their close-knitted group. His friends didn't abandon him and he thought that he could leave behind the expectations of the Wizarding World once and for all.

He considered settling down and having a family of his own, but he concluded that at the age of eighteen he wasn't ready for that kind of commitment, especially after the anti-climatic showdown between him and Tom.

Harry hadn't lived his life for the last eighteen years, and he might have became a couch potato for the next few weeks just to see how their society tries to blame him and crawl out from the mess left behind by Tom's little plan for world domination.

Unfortunately he didn't get the chance to relax because the next day he woke up, nursing the greatest hangover of the world and noticed that his life once again got screwed up when he felt that he was a she.

A little warning would have been nice next time.

* * *

But it was a nice day.

Okay, nicer than the last two days in which he had to face the gaping of his godfather, the silence of Dumbledore, the distress of Hermione, a bright red Ron, an upset Ginny and the majority of the Weasley clan staring at him like he grew two heads, instead of two tits.

He honestly couldn't understand what the big shock about his gender change was, but it might have been attributed to him pouring a few Calming Draughts into his first coffee to stop him from freaking out from any small, insignificant problems.

Hm.

He had a strange bad feeling in his chest and he absently rubbed there, feeling up his breasts and wondering how girls managed not to get distracted by them on their person.

Probably because they didn't have a fascination with them and actually had them grow over years and not a night. They had time to get used to them and he was failing to get over the absence of weight between his legs.

It was a strange feeling.

Was it like to others when they lost an arm or a leg? Gaining a phantom 'limb' would give him more trouble than he wanted. Could he even get it from missing his dick?

Probably not.

But he had more stressing problems over the last few days. Like trying to walk normally.

His whole bone structure and body mass changed, his balance was shot, and trying to wrap his feelings about the whole situation was a bad pun.

It was interfering with what he learnt of martial arts, what he picked up through grueling work and sweat and tears.

He couldn't even walk without bumping into things with his hips, falling over his legs, or looking like a duck because his hips tried to sway. He wasn't fond of the motion when it caused him to trip again. He was covered in bruises and he didn't want to see how sloppy his fighting stances and moves became by this handicap.

His sudden clumsiness earned him some laugh from Charlie and he didn't liked to be laughed at by the guy whose lap he have found himself a few times since this change happened.

And the looks he got from his family…

It was pity and sadness, and pity and humor, and pity and astonishment and… have I already said that there was pity in their eyes?

So he left their gazes behind and run away, hiding in the attic and staring at the falling rain.

He was lucky that the weather remained like that.

For some reason after the first initial shock the two girls of his age decided that his accident was actually funny, and they wanted to take him under their wings to introduce him to the wonder of womanhood. And what a funny thing it was…

He spent eighteen years of going to pee like opening his flies then standing before the toilet and aiming with his manhood. Now he had to sit down and pee.

It wasn't a wonder that for the first time when he felt he had to pee he stood there and tried to figure out how to do it, especially when he peed on his legs while standing over the toilet when he tried to do it the old way. He jumped into the shower to rid himself of the smell then Hermione knocked on the door, saying she wanted to speak with him. He quickly finished and grabbed a towel.

His only clue about his mistake was the blush on the girl's face as she tried to loosen the knot on the towel. He was confused for a few seconds, and let her retie the towel, now covering not only his crotch but his bosom too, muttering about modesty and whatnot.

It was all pretty confusing. He should be grateful for Hermione telling him the dos and don'ts of being a girl. It was a crash course and she quickly realized that she needed help with this project. And she found her supporter within the fangirl named Ginny Weasley.

Because Ginny liked the idea of the Hero of the world, but she also knew Harry too. And this made her the perfect candidate for the job.

Once upon a time Ginny tried to seduce Harry. And failed. Repeatedly.

Their relationship got over those times and they retained a flirty behavior on Ginny's side and Harry continued to be obvious to the hero worship around him.

And she enjoyed seeing him squirm while they showed him and told him things that he never bothered with because he was a boy and he didn't have to worry about it too much before.

What did he care about menstruation and all that jazz?

About birth control for women?

About PMS?

About women hygiene?

These sort of things weren't told to little boys in primary school or kindergarten. Most of the boys didn't even need to know about these at all, because to girls their mothers told them at early age and they took care of them and grew up with them.

So Hermione and Ginny took upon themselves to educate him about these things that shall-not-be-named in men's company. And his mind was wobbling under the onslaught of information as he listened to how to use pads and how not to pee and how not to get pregnant and how to shower and what to wash and….

He had to escape from their evil clutches and that was the reason why he hid in darkness with dusty trash around him, drinking a cup of cooling coffee and staring at the rain.

His musings were interrupted by the creaking of the floor.

He looked over his shoulder and saw a sheepish Sirius sneaking up on him, with a mug in his hand.

"So you were moping around here." He said and looked around with raised eyebrows. "You know, this was my hiding place too, when I was little and had to hide from my mother."

Harry watched as the rain slid over the glass, and Sirius took it as an encouragement to continue.

"We are worried about you. You are shutting us out, and you are scaring the girls with your calmness. Is there something we should know about?" he enquired as he stood next to his sitting form.

Harry didn't bother to tell him that this whole situation was so fucked up he didn't even know what to start with.

Sirius sighed and pried Harry's fingers from his empty cup, giving him the steaming mug he carried up.

"If you need anything don't hesitate to call for one of us." He waited for a few minutes to see whether Harry changed his mind, but in the end he sighed and started to trek down the stairs.

In the doorway he saw Remus hesitating on going after him to speak with Harry. He grabbed the werewolf's arm and dragged him away without letting any arguments out of the brown haired man's mouth.

In the kitchen Remus shook himself out of the hold of the ex-convict.

"Sirius! What happened? Why were you so quick and did you told him anything about drugs and the effects? Sirius. Sirius!" Sirius silently laughed at his distress and Remus wanted to strangle his old friend, for his bad sense of humor. The black haired man grinned at him and wheezed from trying to keep in the laugh threatening to tumble out of him.

"Didn't you tell him that we know about him raiding the potions cabinet? Sirius! Sirius, did you tell him anything? Answer me!" he shook the grinning man and Sirius broke down.

"Nope." He said with a Cheshire Cat like grin still on his face. "I didn't tell him anything…" then seeing the rage on the normally placid man's face he quickly added "he will have other problems today."

Remus stared at him, so Sirius explained before he could gather his wits and snap at him.

`"Well… He will find out that he shouldn't trust a marauder enough to drink what said marauder gives him."

"Sirius… you didn't."

"Yes, I did."

In the attic an oblivious Harry took a big sip from his coffee.

* * *

When his mug was empty again he heard voices coming up on the stairs and he rolled his eyes at the duo.

"Harry?"

Hermione (or was it Ginny?) asked him from the way in. The next question sounded from his right and he looked up from his crouching position against the window.

"You shouldn't drink so much coffee. Caffeine doesn't do you good."

Hermione chided him, repeating her usual response to his bad habit.

He smiled at her wryly as he was roused by Ginny's arm around his waist.

"What do you want?" he asked them feeling like a parent indulging his daughters. He felt the bad feeling in his chest tighten when the girl grabbed his arm and started to drag him down from the attic. He looked around in worry as they passed closed doors, until they arrived to his room, where Hermione and Ginny tossed him into his bathroom. He struggled to keep his balance and he succeeded in showing of his height, which was reduced by his change. He cursed in his mind as he remembered how happy he was when he had hit his growth spurt and he wasn't shorter than Hermione anymore.

One more thing to remedy if he found out what the hell happened to him… Not if. When. When he finds out.

Ginny and Hermione stood in the doorway, leering at him (or Ginny leering at him and Hermione looking pensive) and there was something in their hands.

"Be a good girl, Harry… It will only hurt if you try to resist…"

Looking for some kind of escape, Harry noted that he was doomed the moment he stepped through the door, if he didn't want to injure the girls.

And he was a gentleman who knew that you don't go around hitting girls.

Even if by some kind of freak accident you were turned into one, it doesn't make you into an exception from the rule.

Even if you were slowly freaking out at the look in their eyes.

Hermione looked at him with a small smile and said to placate her nervous friend. "It's for your own good."

This tidbit didn't make Harry calmer and he wondered about the expiring date of a potion. Maybe it lost most of its effect because he was getting more and more scared and he shouldn't be if it worked properly.

"Strip." Ginny's order was short and straightforward, but Harry looked at her like she was speaking gibberish. The girl put her hands on her hips and told him again. "Strip, Harry. We don't have all day for this."

Harry looked at Hermione and she encouraged him with the motion of her head.

He slowly took of his large shirt, shorts and sit down to get off his socks, but as he reached for the boxers on his wide hips a freckled hand grabbed his and stilled him. Brown eyes stared into his own green ones and his face was burning with embarrassment.

"Mione. You closed the door, right?"

"I did. We won't be interrupted."

With growing apprehension he turned to the brunette witch who was holding up some kind of steaming, brown goo. Ginny held a spatula, stirred the concoction with it, then looked at Harry while her wand in her other hand pointed at him.

"Petrificus Totalus."

Harry immediately felt the Full Body Bind taking control of his body, and he could do nothing as Ginny smeared the goo on his skin. It was hot and he felt his skin burning under it, and he was worried about getting boils under the goo. He tried to break the bind but he felt sluggish and he couldn't dip into his magical core…

And then Ginny tested a patch with her finger on the covered skin and YANKED.

The boy-turned-girl would have screamed, if he wasn't under the curse, as the goo plucked out the hair on his leg. Ginny looked at the brown patch in her hands and threw it away after further inspection.

"Mione, help me, there's more resin in that pot, and Harry still has too much body hair."

The brunette ignored the pleading eyes of her childhood friend and knelt down next to his prone body, using the spatula to cover the skin of his other leg. The two girls worked in tandem as he laid there and tried to think happy thoughts as they rid his ankles from hair, then they went higher and his boxers were rolled up and he was plotting in his head against the two of them and the brown goo of horror.

After his thighs, they turned him over and continued their work. When they finished, his relief was short lived as they started on his armpits and every other body part.

He officially hated being a girl.

"Look Mione. His skin is so smooth…" Ginny cooed from her position straddling him and plucking and shaping his eyebrows.

"He isn't too hairy either."

And Harry was sobbing inside, mourning his manly body hair and wept as his eyebrows were becoming girly.

It was wrong enough that he couldn't grow a beard or some stubble, but to be completely bare and smooth?

It was a blow to his _manly_ pride.

A huge one.

This day couldn't be any worse. But fate showed once again what a bitch she is, when Ginny remarked.

"And when the storm stops we are going shopping. You can't go around in boxers and without a bra. You are distracting my brothers."

Joy.

The brunette stared at him with criticizing eyes and he let the gaze roll over his body. Not that he could do anything about it while he was under the curse.

And why the hell was he still under the curse?

Hermione looked into his eyes and held his gaze for a few seconds before sighing loudly.

"It's unsightly for a girl to run around like that, Harry." Ginny started when she finished and plopped down next to him. "You have to be careful, because your body is a female body now and lots of things change because of that."

"You are probably angry at us for accosting you like that, but believe in us. It's much more hygienic and unproblematic to get rid of the body hair. And it's not permanent."

Hermione's eyes shifted to Ginny who looked away guiltily. Dark brown eyes narrowed as she noticed the shifty way of the redhead's manners.

"Right, Ginny?" Hermione grabbed the pot and stuck her nose in it, taking a deep breath from the still steaming resin. There must be some kind of heating charm on it.

Her eyes grew wide as she dipped her index finger in it and brought it to her eyes, checking its texture.

"Oh, Ginny! You didn't… Did you mixed up the packets?" she asked exasperated.

Ginny's smile showed her annoyance at the accusation of being an idiot who didn't read the label on products.

"Oops."

She looked smug, Hermione didn't look like she was going to scold the redhead, and Harry felt his head throb at the possibility of him being hairless in most places.

The two girls stood up, seeing the body bind slowly getting dissolved. Their friend was slowly gaining the control of his body back and his first words were a threat against them.

"You two have ten seconds to get away."

They risked another look at him, saw his twitching fingers, so they ran to the door and left his room behind as fast as possible. Harry took his time sitting up and moving his toes.

He had prey to catch and he knew better the playground than the two of them together.

He was strolling down the corridor where he saw his laughing godfather and knew that he found out the reason for the failure of the Calming Draught.

Somebody slipped him the antidote.

And for the crime of desecrating his coffee somebody would suffer.

Harry James Potter was on war path, seeking retribution and three people will be covering before him by nightfall.

* * *

He stared at the shop window with clear distaste, but he couldn't escape because of the two weights hanging of his arms. He turned his head around and looked at the exit with longing but he was quickly dragged into the shop to buy him some clothes that actually 'fit'. There words, not his.

Harry would have been happy if they could leave him alone to die wallowing in misery, but they are bastards with a hidden agenda at seeing him in inappropriate outfits, so in their mind it was perfectly okay to drag him into the place where most males don't ever go in their entire lifetime… a _lingerie_ shop.

His deer-caught-in-headlights look was quickly noticed by one of the shop assistants and she cheerfully made her way to them. Seeing this, the two girls reattached themselves to his person and once again he was immobile.

"Hello! Can I help you with something?" she asked grinning up at her with hooded eyes. He stared at her and Hermione quickly took the lead.

"Well… my friend here noticed that she filled out a bit and her old clothes don't fit her anymore…"

Harry quickly looked down from the girl's eyes and prayed that she would buy their bullshit. His prayers were answered when the salesgirl looked him over with appraising eyes and nodded.

"Please, follow me to the back it will be more quiet there. Then I can take your measurements." She walked out and they went after her, keeping Harry between the two of them, so he couldn't bolt.

The back of the shop had cubicles and mirrors and there was a small table with measuring tapes too.

"Please take of your shirt and bra and I will try to determine your size."

She told Harry to stand there and lift his arms, and she started to measure him with the tape in different positions.

"Hm. It seems like 34D will be the right one for you."

Harry sure didn't care, but he was getting scared as the girl seemed to touch him a bit more than he thought she should. Even if he was half-bare and she was just doing her job.

"And for your panties… I think size M would be comfortable enough for you. What style would you like? Briefs, boy shorts, or thongs?"

Harry stared at her.

He wanted some kind of undergarment.

He didn't want to know about more of them than was totally necessary.

Did she really ask what did he want?

"She would like boy shorts, some briefs and one or two thongs."

"Hermione!" Harry squeaked, head blazing red, as she went to the front of the shop to select lingerie for him. He dressed up again and followed his brown haired friend, but he was quickly pushed back with a bunch of bras and panties in his arms to go and try them on.

He went into a cubicle and undid the buttons on his shirt and took it off. His breasts almost tumbled out from Hermione's bra, and it felt very uncomfortable. He stared down at the mound next to him and went through them selecting out the few he would consider wearing.

He looked in horror when a red thong with a skimpy bra appeared from the pile and he quickly disposed of them.

He found out the workings of the clip on one and then he tried on a simple black ensemble and stuck his head out to call Hermione. She arrived with a huff and asked him if there was a problem. Her tone almost made him reconsider calling her, but he had to make sure.

"Does it look like how it should look?" he asked as he let her peek inside.

"Yes it looks okay. I'll tell Ginny to stop with that kind of jokes." She said as she pointed at the larger pile with the red thingy. "Give me that pile, I'll take it back."

"Thanks Hermione, you are the best."

He shouldn't have said that to her before seeing her pile, which contained several lacy lingerie sets.

In the end he chose simple bras and boy briefs. And then he found out about the existence of sport bras too. After this revelation he wanted to buy only sporty ones, but he was quickly discouraged by a slap on the back of his head, courtesy of one Hermione Granger.

He didn't know that the girls bought him other kinds too.

He was too preoccupied by sulking.

* * *

They went to Harrods, after visiting Madam Malkin's robe shop, for jeans, shirts, skirts and things that a girl might need. They got an entirely new wardrobe for him, not listening to his protests about this whole body business being a temporary problem.

They looked at him with teary eyes (okay, Ginny with teary eyes and Hermione with a stern glare) and told him to shut up, because he was getting new clothes and he should be ashamed that he would dare to argue with them after subjecting them to such a horror a few days ago.

He didn't try to tell them that he was the victim at that time too and that they were to be blamed after that accident.

He was a gentleman through and through, it didn't matter that currently he was a female, and gentlemen don't make girls cry even if they were spawns from hell.

So he endured being their mannequin and let them spend ridiculous amounts of his money, because hey, he was a rich man even if he ignored the fact.

And then the cavalry arrived in the form of a disgruntled Severus Snape wading through racks of women clothing and Harry has never been so happy to see the overgrown bat. (Even if he was still angry at him for collecting fluids from him, and not specifying what kind.)

He stood in front of a half naked Harry and looking away he proceeded to tell them that they had a lead on Potter's little problem. Ginny stopped trying to get Harry in a glittery halter top and Hermione scooped up the selected clothes to pay for them. Ginny happily left the mortified Potter heir, still half naked, with his old professor and skipped to the side of the brunette witch to throw a red dress onto the pile with throwing a wink back to their friend.

Harry was unaware of her actions because he was trying to convince himself that the older man didn't see him in a bra and that he was just imagining the small blush on the face with the crooked nose. He redressed and hoped that he will wake up from this dream, so he could have a good laugh and forget about it.

But poor, little Harry knew that he wasn't dreaming.

Earlier Ginny pinched his ass and it hurt.

* * *

End of Chapter 1

AN: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Reviews are welcomed, we will read and answer to every one of them (me with the help of my lovely beta). :)


	3. Chapter 2: Damn

Disclaimer: Don't own HP. Don't own SPN. Don't own GC Rules. Feel better? Cause I do. :)

Pairings: Dean/Harry (main) and Sam/Harry (side)

Warnings: HP is AU from GoF, genderbend, slight crack!fic, my bad humor, slash, het, femslash, occasional cursing

Betas: FEARMEfrancis and Rune the Secret Child (Thanks for their patience, you two are the best :D )

* * *

Chapter 2: "Damn."

* * *

"If you just met a guy and know absolutely nothing about him, but need to refer to him during 'girl talk' you use one example of who he is, something he has, or what he does, and he becomes... that guy." /Girl Code Rule 3/

* * *

The room was a bit stuffy.

It wasn't the fluffy carpet's, the tinkering gadgets', the mumbling portraits' or the massive desk's fault. No, they added a nice touch to the otherwise cold room made of stone.

The atmosphere was suffocating at the best and the occupants were sweating in their seats, staring at the sole reason of the oppressive air around them. Someone looked like he was going to faint, but he wasn't important because the Ministry would know not to send someone so fainthearted to help out them, but they really could have at least tried to show that they are not a bunch of insane wizards and witches.

Never mind that most of them cracked under the pressure of being a prime target of the Death Eaters, and let's not forget about the pressure of teaching underage kids how to handle a dangerous weapon, which was given into their hands the age of eleven by their parents who insisted that they have to be treated with carefulness and they shouldn't ever know about the power in their hands.

A swish, a flick and an incantation. Those were the basics of casting the first charm everyone learnt in their first year.

Wingardium Leviosa.

Arduus means high or steep, levo means to raise up or levitate, and the wing portion of the incantation seems specific to feathers. It was one of the simplest spells and first years were taught by using feathers.

But even this spell could be dangerous with the proper intentions and the right amount of magic backing it up.

Over the seven years of schooling in Hogwarts a child learns more than a few hundred spells to alter their surroundings and to change things without taking into account the basic laws of physic. Most of them didn't even know about the laws of the universe taught by muggles.

In their school years not only they learn spells, but techniques too, even if the material that teachers are expected to teach gets more watered down year by year because of the low standards of the Ministry. The sad reality is that most students don't bother to put just a little bit work into their study outside the curriculum because they continue to struggle with living up to the low expectations of the average course.

It was really sad how far the once powerful wizards have fallen.

_But it was still about control._

More magic needed stronger control.

And there weren't too many wizards above the average, but they still could be dangerous even with their lack of knowledge.

_Especially with their lack of knowledge._

Even a simple cleaning spell could be used to murder someone as it was shown through history by a few Light Lords who didn't want to dirty themselves by using dark magic.

Spells could be used to harm others, to heal others, to protect others.

Magic could be the biggest guns in someone's weapon arsenal. They only needed to learn two words and with the proper aim they could kill another human being without leaving behind any traces. And this was something that shouldn't be forgotten.

Especially when you are in a room full of angry witches and wizards and you are the bringer of bad news.

The saying goes: don't shoot the messenger. In this case you should hope that they know the saying and won't harm you, who brought the bad news upon them.

But you have to remember that wizards and witches aren't the most cool-headed bunch in these times.

_And some of them weren't even too calm at the beginning... _

* * *

The ministry official stared in awe at the legends before him.

He would never have thought that he will get this close to _the_ Albus Dumbledore or _the _Harry Potter.

Even if both of them were a bit different from the photos in the Prophet.

Even if the young Potter chose a slightly unusual way of defeating the Dark Lord.

Even if the Light Lord had a rather strange twinkle in his eyes.

However they were there standing before him and that was what counted in his mind. His heroes…

His musings were interrupted by a huge sneeze from the older one of said heroes. Harry distracted by his own hiccups offered him a tissue which he gracefully accepted and blew his nose in, then proceeded to throw it away.

Before it reached the ground, it evaporated in a flash of fire.

Fawkes cooed from his perch and Snape threw disgruntled gaze toward the phoenix as the bird looked him in the eye and they started a strange contest which resulted in twitching on Snape part and a smug look from Fawkes at his twitching form. The firebird didn't need to blink as much as Snape apparently did, but Snape was stubborn and he decided to win the challenge posed by the damned bird.

Minerva just watched their match and contemplated summoning a house-elf for some crackers. She found the snack strangely addicting and they went well with her afternoon tea and ginger biscuits. She wanted to chew on something… maybe she needed to eat some grass because it felt like a giant fur ball was trying to crawl up from her stomach.

Sirius was thinking about running around in his animal form instead of sitting in this stuffy office. He wanted to go out and roll in that puddle of mud he saw from his seat and he wanted to gnaw on big, juicy bones while he let the beautiful ladies scratch his ears and pat his stomach. Spending twelve years in Azkaban obviously didn't help his mental state and sometimes he was caught staring into the distance with blank eyes and a creepy smile. Those who have seen this never told him about his deranged look or the fact that they were quite disturbed after seeing his episodes.

Hermione was staring at Harry with an intense gaze. She looked at him like he was a rare magical book which contained the secret of life and Harry would have been very nervous if he noticed her concentration on his person, but he was too preoccupied with hoping to stop the contradictions of his diaphragm with sheer willpower and holding his breath.

The ministry official has been waiting for their attention in the last few minutes, but the occupants didn't seem to have taken notice of him. They were busy with their thoughts and he was a wallflower in all aspects. He was such an uninteresting individual that he wasn't even surprised about not being listened to.

Then the heavenly light shined at him through the visage of one Remus Lupin. The sand-haired man with the gauntly frame and pale skin was an angel in werewolf skin to the poor, underappreciated official.

"Ah Mr. Turpenter! We are so happy that the Ministry sent someone so capable to help us with this problem." The man looked at him with glistening eyes and Remus continued with a small, charming smile on his face which made the younger man blush and reduce him to a stuttering mass. "Could you start the briefing with the Ministry's revelations?"

"Oh… yeah… I mean…" Remus grin grew in size and he congratulated to himself for further embarrassing Fudge's underling. There was a reason why was he a marauder when he was younger and it could be attributed to his vindictive nature. He showed no mercy to fools who made his life so much harder because of his furry, little problem and he had a brilliant mind to play the innocent card most of the time. Sirius perked up feeling the dark aura coming from his closest friend and he forgot about his daydream and focused on the unsuspecting minion with rising glee.

"Yess… Mr. Turpenter… tell us all about it." He purred as he leaned toward his fellow in crime. The game was on and Sirius wasn't to be outplayed by his normally mild-mannered friend.

The descending of the two roused Harry's attention and he watched the unfolding events with raised eyebrows.

His interest only fueled the competition between Sirius and Remus as they didn't want to be seen as soft by James' only child.

So they did what they could do and made the conversation as interesting as they could.

* * *

"So… Let me sum up what you said…" a calm voice started after two hours of listening to the stuttering of Turpenter. "It seems like… my change was complete. The full body scan says I have the full reproduction system of a woman, with the necessary hormones and body parts. Nothing abnormal for a normal girl in my age. I still have my scars and I didn't become perfect in health." The official nodded.

"But the scans of my magical core showed an interesting… what was the word you used… ah, I think I got it! Thread, right?" the official nodded again with more vigor, just happy to listen to his hero.

Harry was a tad uneasy because of the near hero-worship on the man's face, who was at least a decade older than him, but he continued without a hitch.

"Which must have been very time-consuming and nerve-wracking to find, out of all the other connections between my magical core and soul… and it must have taken several weeks for the Unspeakables to retrace all of them baring all of my secrets and desires to an entire squad of strangers. Funny thing that is. Makes a guy want to go homicidal, don't you think Mr. Turpenter?" Harry asked with a kind grin on his face as his eyes were screaming about getting retribution later. He won't forget about it even if they helped him for now.

The official nodded even if he looked a bit confused because of the dark mood coming from the still smiling Boy Who Lived. He didn't dare to speak in fear of angering further him.

"So, putting that aside, their scans showed that this thread doesn't have an end connected in my near vicinity. So they managed to somehow follow my magical signature which was mixed with some other power and they couldn't identify the owner or owners. They managed to track them until they lost it somewhere in a freaking desert in America…" the official nodded like his life depended on his performance. "And for some reason they can't get a clear reading of it, so they want to go and investigate."

The man seemed to consider his words, his hands twitched before he lifted one of them which made him seem like he was asking for his teacher's attention. McGonagall smiled thinly, unseen by the others except the strange eyes of Dumbledore.

"Mr… Ms… Potter, Harry, sir… I mean Madam…" he started, then seeing the sharp, green eyes focusing on him, he let out a squeak and jabbered the rest. "N-n-no, not the ministry… we can't send a squad to the USA without expressive permission from the government there, which wouldn't be granted because they are strictly against our kind of magical community as they are still very… uncivilized."

"So how do you plan to investigate?" Harry was incredulous and started to reconsider his opinion about the Ministry being slightly less dunderheaded since Fudge was replaced. They were still morons through and through and he had a feeling in his gut that the answer wouldn't be to his liking.

"The Ministry's debts were paid by the usage of the Unspeakables."

Was that statement supposed to be_ enlightening_?

Because Harry didn't understand anything about it.

But to Sirius they seemed to have some meaning if the slack jawed expression on his face was any indicator to that. "The Ministry thinks that they paid up for the defeat of Lord Voldemort by deploying the Unspeakables?"

"The employment of the Unspeakables is not to taken lightly Mr. Black! They are an elite group of fighters and researchers, the best our community can offer and it's highly unthinkable to deploy them for someone's personal reason, even if said person is an icon of light!"

"In the opinion of the Ministry the defeat of the Dark Lord is equivalent to employ a unit once?" Sirius repeated his question with a slight change, but his voice still uncomprehending and disbelieving as he leveled a glare at the younger man.

"Not only once. They had been investigating for the last two weeks. That exceeded our debt toward Mr. Potter." To Harry that sounded a bit sulky, but he wasn't fit to evaluate the sanity of the Ministry worker.

Sirius huffed and looked Harry in the eye. "Makes me think you should have let the Dark Lord remain alive, so the highly looked upon and trained Unspeakables and Aurors could take care of him instead of bothering you and alluding to that shitty prophecy made by the owl in the tower."

Mr. Turpenter sniffed and turned his head away while gathering the stack of scrolls he brought with himself.

As he was reaching for the scroll holding all the collected information, a pale hand shot out and grabbed him by his wrist. He squeaked and whirled around to look at his assailant.

Remus Lupin most of the time wasn't an intimidating man, he actually preferred to be looking harmless in front of others and this usually made others forget about him being a known werewolf in public and lower their guards around him. The official has never seen a werewolf outside the textbooks and he was charmed previously by the kind and handsome fellow he portrayed, so he was more than a little surprised when he saw the feral smirk on his face and his honey brown eyes being replaced by cold, gold eyes with slitted pupils.

Turpenter stared into the eyes of the wolf, not knowing about his action being a direct challenge for a dominance fight, as his brows matted with newly shed sweat. He could feel the perspiration on his back, sliding down into his pants, feeling the threatening atmosphere around himself. He quickly broke his staring contest with Remus and tried to tug his hand out of the steel like grip with no avail.

Remus feeling a bit satisfied with the unknown submission of the official let go of his wrist after giving it a hard squeeze, leaving behind a darkening bruise. "Leave the data." He ordered before he sat back into his seat with a mighty huff.

Mr. Turpenter ran from the Headmaster's office like he was hunted by a pack of ravenous carnivores.

Harry and the rest thought that they will never see the man again. They were probably right, as in the next few days Mr. Turpenter's name was a part of the obituary in the Prophet. He was mauled by a pack of angry _dogs_ in outer London.

After the official took his leave the remaining members sat heavily in their chairs or stood in their respective places. The silence was suffocating as they lulled over their next actions with dread on some faces.

Harry sighed as he leaned back into his armchair, intertwining his fingers and propping up his arms on the armrests. The springs creaked under his weight and the noise made a few heads spin around to stare at him for disturbing them in their thoughts. He smirked slightly at their disgruntled faces and resisted to show a grin full of teeth because he feared the consequences of an immature move like that.

"It seems like _I'm_ going to the USA."

The volume in the room suddenly increased as the professors, his family and friends started to talk at the same time, yelling over each other to make him listen and rethink his idea. He let them yell for a few minutes and he contemplated whether or not should he take his old clothes or dare he say it, his new ones or what should he pack. He briefly thought about casting a Silencio or getting a volume-control.

Dumbledore was the first to sit back, followed by Hermione, Remus, Severus, McGonagall and then Sirius. Harry checked a clock on the fireplace and noticed that they only needed seven minutes to realize that he didn't hear anything from their arguments.

He was impressed.

And annoyed at them for trying to undermine his foolproof plan.

But he could be as stubborn as a mule and no amount of begging will change this part of his personality.

* * *

Sirius was trying to be as unhelpful as he could be, and he had to lock him in his room to prevent him from attaching himself to his legs and not letting go, bawling about him being unfair and cruel, going away without his godfather's protection.

He didn't feel particularly cruel or unfair, but this was his immature godfather he was talking about and Sirius was prone to become bit too emotional and clingy from time to time. The time spent in Azkaban away from human contact, and his upbringing probably nurtured his need to reassure himself through touch, to find comfort and make up for the years he had been neglected as a human being.

At least Ron wasn't after his hide like the others.

The red head was embarrassed first, seeing his best friend's venture into womanhood, but he quickly realized that despite Harry losing his manly parts he was the same person he befriended in first year. He was one of the few people who really knew him and could see behind the prickly exterior he showed most of the time.

And Harry knew Ron too. He knew that he will never be betrayed by him and he could always count on his friend as a brother or a close confident if he had troubles.

The Weasleys were his family too, but none of them were as close to him as Ron was.

And he was too preoccupied at the time to try to change Harry's mind about travelling to the USA alone, because he was too busy bending double over his schoolbooks to appease his mother.

_"You know mate, I would go with you, but Mom has been on my case since last year and she would skin me alive if I checked out like Fred and George did… You are my best mate, but I fear my Mum a bit much more than I'm afraid for you. Sorry dude, go and have some fun."_

Hermione was a harder nut to crack. She was sure that he wasn't safe to go without one of them. But she already decided that she was going back to Hogwarts and finish her last year properly instead of completing the NEWTs.

She believed that spending one year at Hogwarts would benefit her; not only the vast library, the knowledge of the professors, but the social relations with her peers could help her once she tried to get into the Ministry and change it from the basics.

She had big dreams and a strong will to fulfill them.

What happened with Harry was unfortunate, but not as important as her dreams were to Harry. He would do everything to see her happy and she couldn't be happy if she had to run away to the USA for some unknown threat and put her ambitions on hold. She also wouldn't be happy if he leaves, but he had to do something about his transformation, because it's killing him to sit down and do nothing.

He was also relieved that she was torn between wanting to go with him and stay there, because it meant that he could make a decision and not get her into some kind of dangerous adventure.

She would be safe and cared for and Harry was pleased to see that she caved when he laid out to her everything. She thought he was such a sweet kid for worrying about her so much and was persuaded to think of him as a responsible adult by his smooth presentation.

_"Oh you can be such a cutie. I'm so proud of you Harry! I think the best would be if you came back to Hogwarts with me and finished your last year… Look what good it did to your vocabulary to read all those books…"_

Harry just congratulated to himself by managing to manipulate the smartest witch in their year and hoped that she won't reconsider and change her mind again.

Seeing the united front of Remus' and Sirius', the remaining Weasleys decided that the problem was covered up by the two men and didn't bother Harry too much except the occasional remarks at dinner, breakfast, lunch, when they run into him or when he stepped out of his room or when he was in the library, lobby, living room…

They were just friendly reminders and Harry started to contemplate using a restraining spell against them if they didn't leave him alone.

They didn't, so he locked himself into his room.

Updating the room with several bolts and chain locks were a good idea and he pushed his trunk to the door to barricade himself away. He shot a fleeting glance to the big drawer, but he quickly changed his mind about moving the heavy furniture across the room, with the floor covered by rugs just waiting to be bunched up and for him to trip in them. He also lacked the necessary brute power to move the thing freely.

Once upon a time Ron told Hermione to stop thinking like a muggle and use her wand. Harry sometimes forgot that he was a wizard and sometimes he deliberately acted like a muggle.

Like when he was starting to learn martial arts. Or the workings of a gun.

He wasn't a genius or a seer capable of predicting the future. He didn't have mad skills in most things and he wasn't a magic spawn of Merlin himself.

He was powerful in his own way and he didn't like to be compared to Dumbledore or Voldemort. It felt like they were making fun of_ them_ when he was hailed to the same level as him, because he didn't have the control like they did to become a Lord of their standing.

He didn't like the expectations placed on him by others.

If he followed them like a good little puppy he would be long dead.

He would have been an idiot to go against a wizard with seventy years worth of experience with magic and expect to come out victorious.

Gryffindor bravado?

He wasn't full of that. The hat wanted to put him into Slytherin, so he felt entitled to shatter the public images of him becoming their valiant white knight against the Dark Lord and make them rethink it again.

He was no Golden Magical Boy of the light. There was something in him that many witches and wizards lacked around him.

Common sense.

And strangely his common sense liked to keep him alive and kicking, so he quickly forget about being a martyr for the Wizarding World and do the sensible thing and ensure his survival.

Hit with the least expected weapons.

And that was the start of a long procedure which made him set apart from the traditionalists. And it put a rift between him and his peers, but he became attached his newfound freedom and pursued it relentlessly.

It was one of the reasons which made him decide to go alone to the USA.

He contacted a branch of the USA government secretly in the cool silence of his room, through mail post as the continent wasn't installed into the floo network. He had to wait several days to get an answer from them and he noted that something should be done about this problem, but he wanted to wait for their response before doing anything more.

The first few letters went ignored and by the fifth one he got a snappy reply about the charges of impersonation. He sat on the windowsill in his room and the letter lay forgotten on his bed.

He was getting_ a bit_ annoyed…

* * *

That night at dinner he was ambushed by his friends' goodwill.

One minute he was happily munching on a chicken leg and the next he was interrogated by the others about his plans. He wasn't amused at all as he watched his food getting colder and colder as the questions kept coming.

The scattered remains of the chicken seemed to call him in a singsong voice and he could feel his mouth water from the smell of the chocolate cake wafting to his nose. He was hesitating between attacking the mashed potatoes and the peas. He ogled the slices of melon and the pickled cucumber.

Seeing his distraction – which wasn't very hard to notice as he stopped trying to answer to the onslaught of questions and then he was just staring vacantly at the dishes with a growing creepy smile – he was on the other end of a lecture.

From Sirius.

Which was ridiculous in every respect, as he wasn't the most responsible individual, but he was the only one relatively unscathed by Harry's temperament and he was old enough to know better, but too childish to care about the dangers of baiting the sleeping dragon.

In this case the dragon was daydreaming and perfectly content with snapping a few necks if disturbed.

Harry's eyebrow ticked as he was dragged out from his happy place and the idea of banging someone's head into the wall sounded too inviting.

Before he was tempted to resort to violence he pushed his chair aside and stood up, revealing his not too awe-inspiring 5"4 frame. Needless to say Sirius didn't start to tremble in his boots; neither had he stopped his rant. Harry did the most responsible thing he could and walked out on him, only shouting back when he was standing before the covered portrait of Walburga Black.

"Screw you Sirius Black!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Get back here Harry!"

"Meaning I don't want to hear more of your tirade! So leave me alone and bug someone else about responsibilities."

Lady Black started to scream in her spot on the wall. As the volume grew, the frame shook until the material covering it fell to the floor.

"It's childish to walk away from an argument like that!"

"Sorry, I haven't noticed that we are having an argument. It seemed like a one-sided fight with you as the only participant."

"And are you alright with that?" shrill voice from behind him and Harry turned a bit to look into the painted grey eyes of the Pureblood.

"What?" Harry asked eloquently, feeling confused about the portrait's interference.

"You little halfblood! I was talking to my disgraceful son and you have no business in our conversation."

Harry didn't need an 180 to see his godfather slink away and leave him to argue with the conceited portrait. He didn't care because he found a new stress-reliever.

"You bitch, I can't believe you! How can you preach about blood relation and status when you disowned your own son? I can't even fathom the way you dare to butt into other's conversation when you are just a painting on the wall! Do a favor everyone else and shut up for a few minutes before I fry you so your own parents won't recognize your freaking portrait!"

"How- How dare you? You filthy child, how dare you speak to me in that way? Have you parents ever taught you the proper way to address those who are above you, young girl?"

"Oh, stuff it old hag where the sun doesn't shine…"

And the screaming match between the portrait and the boy-turned-girl went on and on.

Sirius and the rest of the house congratulated to themselves for finishing operation Make-Harry-Lose-Some-Steam and proclaim it a success.

Who was the one who came up with the shitty name?

Some said it was Sirius. Some said it was Remus. Some said it was the twins.

No matter who did it, the house was full of pranksters, so there wasn't any need to worry about long-lasting damage… Right?

And with this Operation Guilt-Trip-Harry was launched a few hours later.

And who was the best man to do it if not Sirius Black, ex-convict, Marauder extraordinary?

* * *

Harry heard a chuckle from behind and felt the body heat of another against his skin. Arms wrapped around his torso and the pressure on the top his head came from someone's chin. As a warm chest covered his back he smelled his godfather's cologne and he relaxed in the hold.

Deep laughter resonated through him and Sirius shook attempting to stop it from emerging. He lost the battle and Harry started smiling as he let the barking like sound envelope them.

He felt calmer from hearing it and he was suddenly struck with worry that he managed to hurt his godfather in some way when he argued with his mother's portrait. The notion made him feel small and he burrowed deeper into the warm embrace.

"So… Did it feel good to vent a bit with my mother?" Sirius asked after he calmed down, but Harry could imagine the smile on his face.

Harry looked at his shoes and he was struck with the realization that he acted like he was in a bad soap opera; screaming, running out and acting like a five-year-old, instead of being the responsible adult he claimed to be. He blushed a horrible shade of red and opened his mouth to apologize.

As if sensing the direction his thoughts took, Sirius squeezed him a bit and started to speak again. "Yeah, it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but we had been nagging you in the last few days and it was bound to come down to something like this. It could have been a lot worse… all that pent up aggression…"

Harry made a noncommittal sound and Sirius continued.

"Don't bottle up everything or you have to start befriending wrinkles." He joked, but turned relatively serious. "Fuck. I'm not… Okay. I should ask you to go to Remus for this parenting talk, but I know you wouldn't. Don't even try to deny it!"

Harry decided to shut up before he even opened his mouth.

"You can go to the USA alone... without chaperones. You can have your alone time and you can have a little fun, before you find the one who did this to you. Don't try to interrupt me."

Harry shrugged as he could while being encased by long arms.

"I will take this as a yes. So, you only have to promise one thing. One simple thing and you are free to go."

Harry tensed up and Sirius quickly continued their 'conversation'.

"If there is a problem or someone is giving you a hard time or you are in trouble. You call me. You won't forget about informing us or we might show up one night and drag you home. Don't harrumph me. You are my kid, I feel responsible for you and it's only because of my awesomeness that you are able to go to the other side of the Great Pond without any guardians. I trust you to act like a responsible adult."

Harry was touched by this declaration even if he felt like wringing his godfather's neck… just a bit… to hurt him… just a little.

"But there is something you have been neglecting in the last few days."

Harry turned in his hold and peered up at him with an asking glance and Sirius seemed happy to comply with the unsaid request.

"You are good with magic, even if sometimes you have problems. You are a walking dictionary of rituals, spells and potions, so I don't worry about magical beings hurting you. But muggles are just as dangerous but I don't have to remind you, right?"

Harry shook his head and stepped out of the hug.

"In the last weeks I haven't seen you practice your… what was it called again?"

"Judo Sirius. It's called judo."

"You haven't practiced judo. Lets face it with the change your body went through you are out of sorts."

"I'll practice if that's what you want…"

"Not only that. I know that you contacted the embassy. We will help you with that, but I insist you get a permit for carrying a gun. I won't let you go without one of your little machines. Legally if it's possible."

"Uhm… I think for that you need another kind of permit…"

"Well, don't you think it's time to check up on these things?"

"Do I really have to?" he whined, but Sirius heard enough of it to last a lifetime, so he was kind of immune to it.

"Research won't do itself and you need something to do before you make me go crazy in the next 24 hours."

"I don't think the Black library has anything on muggles…"

"You know kid, there is something called public library you should check it out sometime. Awesome place that is, full of books and those buzzing white machines…"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Sirius vowed to stop acting vaguely like an adult. It was seriously cramping his image as the Great Marauder.

* * *

The whole house seemed less dreary and more cheery.

Felt like everyone was a part of a giant conspiracy.

Led by Sirius.

Yes, the whole idea sounded like a hoax to Harry too.

It was idiotic to think that Sirius – _Sirius_ – would be capable of thinking up plans of this magnitude… Right?

Upstairs Sirius sneezed under the shower as he reached for the soap. He cursed a little, and then cursed more when it slipped from his fingers. He chased the slippery soap around and fell on his butt a few times as the tub became slicker and slicker.

Hermione and Ron were studying in their room, working on their summer homework and the essays they skipped during the year to show the professors that they could handle the workload of the seventh year they have to face in a month and they will not lag behind because they missed out on the basics.

Ginny was out with Fred and George, Remus went to the Ministry to speak with Kingsley and Arthur was at work. Molly spent her time in the kitchen, levitating pans and pots to the stove as the sponge cleaned the dirty plates from breakfast and a large knife was cutting up vegetables in rapid succession.

Dumbledore was at Hogwarts with Minerva and Severus as they were holding staff meetings for the upcoming school year. Since the fall of Voldemort, Hogwarts population seemed to have grown again, because the parents felt safe leaving their children to the only establishment which hadn't fallen under the Dark Lord's hands. So the teachers were running on little to no sleep and they were a bit too cranky to leave the staff room for more than a few minutes in order to finish everything for the start of the school year.

Harry obvious to all was packing in his room. He was contemplating asking for Sirius' bottomless bag, when he felt something warm sliding down his thighs. At first he didn't bother himself about it, because he thought he was only imagining the sensation.

He was reaching for his boxers – because he would be damned if he didn't bring several with himself - when he felt his skin crackle in a vaguely painful way. He looked down and felt his eyes widen.

"Damn… That's gonna be a bitch to get out of the carpet."

* * *

He sat in a small, plastic chair in the office of MLE in Salem, Oregon, USA.

He arrived few hours ago with an international portkey and since then he has only seen the four walls surrounding him.

They weren't even pretty walls. Painted a fugly shade of green and they had dents and cracks in them too. There was a small couch which must have seen better days and was filled with papers and books and various broken things.

He was thinking about scooting as far as he can with his plastic chair from the pile, but watching a green mould gain life in front of his eyes on the cushions can do that to a person.

He looked to the side and saw the strange brown and yellow plant and decided to remain where he is when it shot out from its stupor and caught a fly in flight.

The carnivore plant chomped on the remains and Harry had the disturbing idea that it was grinning at him as he finished devouring the large, innocent pest. Harry gulped and started to watch the mold and the plant in turns from the corner of his eyes.

He was showed into the room upon arriving and there wasn't anybody who ventured there. The door was closed and he was stuck there for hours and hours and he was bored out of his mind.

So far his trip was awfully… dull.

He got on his feet and marched to the door, evading the snapping of the flower and the reaching white fuzzy hairs of the mould, and opened it with great vehemence.

The area was void of intelligent human life.

There was only a drooling young girl watching some kind of show in TV and Harry wasn't about to disturb her, but he wanted answers and he wanted them now. He looked around and there wasn't anyone with whom he could talk, so he checked the inside of the puke-green room, but a mysterious appearance of a random stranger or pointer didn't happen so he had no choice but to take his chances with the Barbie-clone.

He walked over and cleared his throat, but the girl watched her little cartoon about… _ponies_?

What the hell…

Okay, he was seriously scared now and started to inch back to the fugly room when she let out a few giggles and her eyes zeroed on his retreating form. He froze and she turned back to her cartoon. He let out a sigh and took another step back when a voice whispered in his ears, before a heavy hand settled on his right shoulder. "Gotcha."

Harry let out a manly shriek and grabbed the offending appendage, then proceeded to throw the stranger over his shoulder and put his leg against said man's neck. He put a little pressure on the throat and got a gurgled sound coming from under him as he was trying to calm his racing heart.

The guy on the floor went limp and made a soothing noise from deep in his chest.

"That's what you get for scaring girls…" came a bored voice from Harry's left and his brain recognized her as the pony girl. She looked down with savage eyes and pushed Harry a little, making him lose his balance and fall to his ass next to the wheezing guy.

The guy sat up and smiled at them with an unassuming grin on his face.

Then there was a few voices coming from the entrance and several people came into the deserted hallway. The first ones looked at their trio in surprise then went to do their jobs.

A few minutes passed and the office filled with the pleasant buzz of working and the low sound of chatting.

Harry was blushing by that time and rose with help from Mr. Gotcha. He patted his white button-up shirt and jeans and he looked up to see pony girl going back to her big chair.

The guy just stood there before him with an embarrassed blush on his face and scratched the back of his head while looking anywhere but at Harry.

A woman in a smart grey suit approached the red faced duo and looked at them with a frown on her face. The whole office quieted down when she got near them.

"Mr. Brown. It shows extreme rudeness to act like that with a guest. Consider yourself rebuked and check in with Mr. Longshaw for the appropriate… punishment for your inappropriate actions toward Ms…?" she looked at Harry with a questioning look and Harry felt like he was standing before a younger McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter." He told her with trepidation and she took it in stride and continued. "For your utterly inappropriate actions toward Ms Potter." She looked at Harry with calculating eyes and snapped at the hesitating form of her subordinate. "Do I have to tell you twice, Mr. Brown? Go!"

He scurried away and she indicated to Harry to follow her.

On their way she lashed out again and told the whispering crowd to get back to their work if they wanted to have their job next day too.

* * *

Harry was led to a large office in a very famous building, Oregon State Capitol.

Not that Harry knew the name of the building.

In the great office there was a great man too.

His name was John "Shark" Gallagher and he was The Head of the MLE, Magical Law Enforcement.

Not that Harry knew the name or the man.

Gallagher sat in his armchair, with his hands folded before his mouth and he was staring intently at the squirming form of Harry Potter. On his desk several papers were waiting to be signed, but they were ignored in the favor of sizing up Harry.

He hasn't said anything since Harry's entry, not even a hello or an introduction, and he was seemed perfectly content with remaining silent, to drag it out a little bit longer.

The problem was that Harry felt like a slab of meat in front of a hungry animal.

It wasn't a comforting thought.

He twisted on his seat while several sluggish minutes passed filled with staring and analyzing on Gallagher's part. Harry just wanted to get over the whole thing and leave the expensive-looking office, instead of being inspected like an insect under a microscope. He suddenly felt chilled, despite the constant hum of the AC.

The man still hasn't said anything, so Harry took his time to leisurely look around, not caring anymore whether he was rude or not, because he was sure that letting a guest stew in their own juice was not the right way to treat a visitor and the method was widely used in interrogations all across the world.

In the center there was a polished desk with two spacious armchairs on one side and on the other one a leather reclining chair occupied by the man. Under the table an expensive looking rug was spread out, maybe a Turkish one?

Behind Gallagher's back a giant window replaced the wall, offering a wonderful view for the watcher.

It would have been a relaxing site if only there wasn't a giant slob in front of Harry, who was breaking every written and unwritten law of being a gentleman.

Harry couldn't ignore it anymore.

And it was pissing Harry off.

He wanted to stand up and leave… but he needed to have his papers in order, if he didn't want to worry about evading the authorities during his stay in the country.

He had to cooperate even if it was killing him not to storm off… or to show any of his discomfort on his face.

As if reacting to his thoughts Gallagher's body language seemed to radiate amusement and Harry was appalled seeing it directed at him? He was tempted to ask the man why was he so happy about something at the moment, but refrained for the time being.

He didn't have to wait too long, because Gallagher must have decided that he got fed up with Harry's… charming features. Or not.

"Mr. Potter… or should I call you Ms. Potter?" amused, amused, amused… everything about the man seemed to scream amusement now, his posture, his voice, his facial, everything and Harry was on edge because of this.

"Just Potter is perfectly fine."

The man's smile grew and soon he was grinning from ear to ear.

"I will use Ms. Potter, if it isn't any trouble."

He wanted to tell it was and he should go to hell if he wasn't capable of accepting such a simple request.

He didn't. _He couldn't._

He waited for hours and he had to keep himself levelheaded, if he wanted to leave ASAP.

Gallagher suddenly snapped into his business personality, even if Harry could see in his eyes that he was far from nonchalant.

"So Ms. Potter. About your application for visa… It was accepted on the first basis, but further proceedings depend on your cooperation."

Hearing a big but there, Harry didn't open his mouth, fearing that he will spoil something with that and still hoping to get out of the office relatively unscathed.

With some of his pride still intact.

"As I have heard you were never too keen on rules and regulations, but we can't make an exception just because you are an international hero."

"I didn't ask for any kind of partiality… Mr…"

"Excuse my rudeness Ms. Potter, my name is John Gallagher." He leaned over the desk and reached for Harry's hand, but instead of shaking it he took it to his mouth and kissed it.

Harry jerked back and glared at the creep masquerading as a gentleman, but Gallagher only smiled in response.

Harry glared harder and Gallagher smiled wider.

Harry thought two could play the game, so he soothed his features and managed a small, cordial smile.

"Mr. Gallagher, I haven't thanked you yet for seeing me in person." This sentence seemed to entertain him just as much as Harry's previous sulky silence.

"I bet."

"So what about those rules?" Harry tried again, now going for bashful and funny at the same time.

Gallagher smirked in response.

'Oh shit.'

* * *

Harry never thought he would set a foot in a place like that.

He just wanted a cup of coffee instead of the watery, black liquid served in the office of MLE.

And he was roped into this.

Coming to this very public place, and he was still in jeans and the tight white button-up Ginny forced him into.

Hell he was never much of an eat-out kind of guy.

So why would he stood in front of the counter of a place called Starbucks with an overly happy guy standing next to him and another crackshot in front of him, beaming at him and waiting for his order.

Seeing his distress Happy Guy Nr1 decided to order for him and happy Guy Nr2 complied merrily.

He was led to a secluded booth, and his eyes were assaulted by his companion's expression.

It was too happy for his caffeine-free mind.

Everyone was too happy for his taste at the moment.

He scowled as Gotcha' Guy tried to start a conversation. For some reason his expression didn't stop gotcha from trying to get some kind of response out of him.

"Hi, I'm so glad to work with you… I heard so much about you. Um, sorry I forgot to… my name is Jake Jamison. I'm so happy to say that I work with THE Harry Potter. My family won't believe it… Oh here is our coffee!"

There was a cup of brown liquid put in front of Harry and he said a soft 'Thank you', before he looked down with a stricken expression.

"I thought you were a Caramel Frappuccino kind of girl. You seem like one… I mean you seem sweet and caring and…"

Merlin's balls… was he trying to flirt with him?

Nah.

Is he just being considerate?

Question is: whether he was pretty enough to be flirted with when Gotcha Guy knew that he was a man at some point or was it his fame making an ugly appearance again?

He didn't know and he was not sure if he wanted to know…

Not to be seen like an ungrateful bitch and to avoid having to answer any of the guy's questions, Harry put the glass to his lips and took a sip.

Whipped cream, caramel and coffee. The caramel added a buttery feeling, the whipped cream another touch of another kind of sweetness and the coffee was easy to digest.

He wanted a cup full of the strong aroma and maybe the slightest amount of sugar.

What he got was some kind of mixed beverage and not even nearly enough caffeine.

He put the drink down and looked hard at the people milling around them. Watching him closely Gotcha Guy jumped at the chance to ask his opinion about his drink.

Seeing the eager puppy eyes, Harry cursed in his mind, then tried to bring out the more pleasant side of his personality.

"Well… It's not bad, but it wasn't the drink I had a desire for." Foreseeing the hurt appearing on Jamison, he donned a small smile and asked him "Can you drink it instead of me?"

He did it without any complaints and let Harry look around with no added comments. Harry suspected he was embarrassed by his failure, and at any other time he would try to make him feel at ease, but he wasn't in the mood at the moment. He shifted on his seat as his stomach cramped and wanted to run back, but he wasn't a scaredy cat so he had to hold on until the pills he ate earlier took effect.

Gotcha guy stood up from his seat and looked down at him clearly uncomfortable, as he excused himself to the restroom.

Harry sat there perturbed for a few seconds then slid out of the booth and walked toward the counter. There wasn't a long line, just one guy before him and Harry tried to make some sense of the labels before Jamison came back.

He loved coffee and he could tell the difference between Jamaican and Guatemalan brew from one sniff, but he knew next to nothing about popular beverages made from them.

He liked his coffee hot and black. No milk, no caramel, no whipped cream, no vanilla, no cinnamon or any other spices.

So he was a bit confused from the wide variety and he tried to see what kind of coffee the guy before him ordered. It looked okay to him on first glance, so maybe there was a chance that the coffeehouse served normal coffee too, right?

He didn't want to look like an idiot, but he was bound to make one out of himself, so he didn't even try to hide his uncertainty. He was whispering to himself

"How do they call normal black coffee?"

He heard a snort from the guy next to him. "Dunno, you can describe what you want and they will try to help you."

A guy in green apron snatched the opportunity to ask him about his order. "What brew would you like? Arabica, robusta or something else?"

"Robusta would be alright now. Maybe something extra strong?"

"What about the Sumatra? It's full, intense and one of the best single-origin coffees we offer." He looked hopeful and Harry couldn't say no. The fact that it wasn't a multi-region blend helped to make him accept.

"Okay, I'll take that. The largest cup you have…"

After paying he went to stand next to the guy in suit. Harry glanced at the door to the restroom and wondered what took such a long time for Jamison to finish.

"You are not from around here, right?"

He looked up from under his fringe and looked into dark green eyes framed with dark eyelashes. He stood there gob smacked and shook his head silently.

"The accent was a dead giveaway..." he grinned and Harry thought he had a great smile, but his eyes were prettier. "So are you British?"

Harry nodded, when a girl gave the man his coffee with a pretty blush on her freckled face. Suit Guy turned around and headed for the door with his coffee in hand – it was some kind of African Arabica, he could tell from the scent – and Harry spoke up before he would leave.

"Do you work around here?"

The guy stilled and smiled at him again and Harry thought the girl behind him swooned at the sight.

"Not really, I'm just travelling trough because of my job… Don't worry we will see each other again, hot stuff."

Hot stuff?

'That's it you are_ so_ going down.'

"Oh, I wasn't worrying about that…" he smirked, while berating himself for finding the jerk even remotely interesting. "Just trying to find out about the guy who holds the badge."

The man was surprised but he quickly covered it up and opened his mouth to retort with something witty, but he was interrupted by one: the arrival of Harry's companion and two: the arrival of his steaming coffee.

"Sorry, Ms. Potter. I was kinda held up… Did something happen while I was gone?"

Harry looked at Jamison then back to the Guy-In-Suit.

Who has left the coffee shop while he was distracted.

"Damn."

"Did you say anything Ms. Potter?" Jamison asked with those puppy eyes and Harry put the jerk away from the forefront of his mind.

"Nothing. Could you stop with the whole thing? Call me Harry."

"Eh? I wouldn't… It would be…"

"Let's make a deal. You call me Harry, just Harry, none of that Ms. Potter stuff, and I will call you Jake. How does that sound?"

He contemplated the idea then nodded.

"Okay. Let me grab my coffee and we can go back to the office. I still need to speak with my _new_ boss about those rules…"

* * *

End of Chapter 2

AN: Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Reviews are still very welcomed...

About the Girl Code rules. Dunno whether someone wondered about them, but I want to assure you, that they are not the product of my mind. You can find them on Urban Dictionary dot com. :)

With this chapter... Girl Code is now over 15k words. I feel proud of my baby. Writing while watching Resident Evil (1-3), then Evil Dead, then Hancock seemed to work for some reason... :D


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